If 40 is the new 30, then my 44 is really 34 and, well, I’m too young for this

For the record, I’m writing this under duress. I’m not even sure what I’m about to say is true. In truth, I’m a bit of a hypochondriac and I’m sure that what I’ve been experiencing is a combination of the 25 pounds I need to lose and the mugginess of summer.

If it’s not, well, there’s just one thing to say.

Hot flashes suck.

I started to notice the sensation about two or three months ago at various points in the day, but never without a plausible explanation: the ones that come as I get ready in the morning are due to the high-wattage vanity lights in the bathroom; those that happen late afternoon are usually after I take the dogs out; and some that happen at work are generally when I get “that 2:30 feeling” of drowsiness (regardless of the time) and as I start to snap out of it I’m usually flush.

Then I noticed I started getting them at times when there wasn’t much of an explanation: when I was sitting on the sofa watching television, standing in the kitchen making supper, sitting wide-eyed and at full alert during a meeting at work.

It was during one of those meetings (I’m not always wide-eyed, but was at that one) that the realization was shoved at me. Literally.

Our regular weekly meeting is held in a conference room known for its chilled environment. We all generally bring sweaters or prepare ourselves with hot coffee before going in. This particular day a few weeks ago, I didn’t get cold. In fact, I started to feel sweat beading up around my scalp and along my hairline, my cheeks started to heat up and suddenly I was HOT.

I turned to a co-worker, as I was wiping my brow, and commented about how warm the typically cool room was that day.

Co-worker: It’s not warm. I’m cold.

Me: Are you kidding? I’m sweating!

Co-worker: I see that. Why are you so hot?

Me: I don’t know!

Co-worker (with that “a-HA!” look in her eyes): Ooohhhhh, how old are you? You might be flashing.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

I was devastated. Crushed. Pissed off.

I’m too young for this, right? I just turned 44, and the 40s are the new 30s, and 30 is much too young to be perimenopausal. Right? Right??

Apparently not. Now I’m noticing them all the time – when playing cards with friends the other night I had to pull my hair up because I was getting so hot, while sitting in the office, even laying in bed on the brink of sleep. I was all nice and cozy, just getting ready to drift when suddenly the blankets became unbearably hot and I started kicking – seriously – to get them off.

This is going to be a loooooong preview phase.

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1 Comment

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One response to “If 40 is the new 30, then my 44 is really 34 and, well, I’m too young for this

  1. Well that explains a lot!!! Life always gives us something to look forward to.. GREAT!!

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